Dante's Inferno
by girlinterrupted12
Summary: GKM: In Texas, local farmer Burt finds a half naked boy at the side of the road nearly beaten to death. As he digs deeper into the boys past he realizes that he is the victim of sexual abuse and nymphomania. Can Burt save him before it's too late? Meanwhile, Blaine comes back from the War with Post-Traumatic Stress wondering where his boyfriend is. Rate M for mature themes.
1. Heat

**Warning: This story contains violence, coarse language, sexually suggestive themes, sexuality, homosexuality, drug use, homophobia, death, graphic violence and is for a mature audience. Please do not read unless over eighteen.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee.**

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_Dante's Inferno_

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Burt spat tobacco in the tin can beside his chair, leisurely rocking back and forth. It was hotter than hell on this July, Sunday afternoon, but it was tradition for him to sit out on his front porch before the sunset. Usually him and his wife—God rest her soul—would sit together basking in the warmth playing cards or whichever word game Elizabeth felt like playing.

However, that was years ago.

Now it was just him, alone in this big old farm, that he wouldn't trade anything in the world for. He had lived here since he was a boy and his father own the farm, showing him how to plow the fields, milk the cattle and build things with the simple tools God gave him. Burt lived just outside a small southern town called Dante's Inferno. Over the years the town had changed so much, as the elders grew weary and the young grew wrestles it was now riddle with drugs and petty violence, Burt rarely went there unless he absolutely had too.

With his crops growing, ample soil beneath his feet and a few cows Burt rarely needed anything from town unless it was to buy bread, seeds or supplies and of course to go to church. Chewing nosily he ran his hand over his slick head, wiping away the sweat that gathered there. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his harmonica and began playing an old tune his father used to play, getting lost in the music. Burt's mind drifted to his beautiful wife and he knew she would be scolding him for getting tobacco all over the instrument and he'd just throw her a placating smile, when he recalled those times his heart ached and he wished that she was still alive to witness how beautiful the farm had flourished.

Burt gazed out on the land watching the sun fall behind the trees and he sighed. It was getting late and he needed to get up early tomorrow. Shoving his harmonica into his pocket he usually walked around the farm to see if anything was out of place, because these days a few of the local kids like to mess with him. Grabbing his baseball bat he gripped it in his hand and walked the familiar dirt path around the house and then the barn. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary he continued towards the end of the street, where the dirt road meets the pavement and checked his mailbox. A tuck sped past him, almost running him over but he managed to jump out of the way just in time.

"Crazy kids," Burt muttered under his breathe.

Looking down the winding road he squinted against the faded light and he thought he saw something. Inching closer he figured it must have been a hurt racoon but this thing was far too big. Burt frowned as he walked on the shoulder of the road careful to keep his distance as he approached; before he could stop himself he was sprinting, running faster than he has in his entire life when he realized that the thing on the road was a _person_.

When he got closer he knelt down beside the body. "Hey, Kid," He said shaking the pale arm and when the boy turned over Burt gasped.

The boy was beaten bloody, face bruised and swelling alarmingly, Burt wondered who the hell could have done that to such a small boy. The kid was wearing nothing but a flimsy off the shoulder t-shirt that barely covered his entire body, he was also barefoot. For a moment Burt considered leaving him there and calling the police, but he wounds didn't look too deep and he knew his late wife would never forgive him if he did that. Instead he hooked his arm under the boy's legs and under his waist and picked him up bridle style carrying him back to his house.

When they got inside Burt carefully laid the boy on his couch checking his body for anymore bruising. There were a few hand prints on his thighs and the loosely fitted shirt started to ride up Burt blanched when he saw that the boy was wearing _woman's_ underwear. Scratching his head he shrugged that off and went to room to get some ointment for the wounds, along with some water and disinfectants to clean it. Gently with a cloth he wiped away some of the blood around the boy's swollen eye, then his lip and finally around his nose, which Burt was sure was broken. Then he applied some natural healing oils to the boy's skin, realizing that this boy looked familiar but he wasn't sure where or when he had seen him before. The kid started to sir, moaning and twisting on the couch.

"Blaine…Please—don't go please—"

"Shhh," Burt said. "It's okay, you're safe now."

"Blaine _please_ stay…you promised…." The boy wined and then his body went slack as he fell into a deep sleep.

Once Burt was finished he got a chance to look at the kid's face, realizing that he couldn't be more than sixteen. The boy looked beyond delicate, small dainty lips, pale almost luminous skin and his chestnut brown hair lay flat against his forehead. Burt could tell by observing that this boy was a _fairy_, probably a prostitute from town.

"Lord help me," He sighed, rolling his eyes to the heaven.

That's all he needed, to take in a prostitute and have one of the pimps come after him once they realized their property was missing. Sitting on the coffee table, he wondered if this kid had any parents, maybe they were people missing him? There were so many questions he needed answers to and at first light he decided he was going into town to get them.

**oOo**

Burt awoke early the next morning, it was closer to dawn when he got into his truck and drove to Dante's Inferno. The market was just opening up and he smile when he pulled up next to Carole Hudson as she was putting his famous baked pies on display.

"It's that Mrs. Hudson's baked pie's I'm smellin'?" Burt called jumping out of his truck.

"It sure is," Carole drawled. "What brings you into town Mr. Hummel?"

Burt shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "I was just wonderin' if you could give me information on something." He gently pulled her off to the side so that they could talk in private. There was just something about Mrs. Hudson that made Burt's heart quicken with pace and his mouth go dry. He had learned few years ago that she had lost her husband in the war and was left to raise her only son Finn. Over the years he had gotten to know Finn and sometimes he helped Burt out on the farm whenever he could and on those days Carole would bring a couple of her blueberry pie's over and they'd have a feast.

"What do you need Burt?"

"Well…" He said shuffling his feet awkwardly. "I found a kid last night…didn't look more than sixteen at the side of the road…..he's was nearly beaten to death and I have him at my house….I was just wonderin' if anyone had been reported missin' last night? The kid is real pale, with brown hair nearly my height—"

"Oh, that's Anthony's step son Kurt," Carole said instantly.

"Anthony?" Burt's blood boiled. "You mean that sick bastard who ran off last year with that girl barely sixteen?"

"The very same," Carole sighed. "Look….I've heard things about that boy…And seen things he isn't exactly right in the head…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's mixed up with some really bad people, he hangs around Sam that runs the barbershop frequently, so you'll probably have to ask him." Carole said.

"Alright," Burt said readjusting his baseball cap. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson,"

"Carole," She corrected, with a small blush. "Call me Carole,"

"Of course Ma'am," Burt said nodding respectfully.

He felt hot and awkward standing there so he excused himself. "I'll just go talk to Sam...Save a slice of one of them pies for me."

"Sure will," She waved as he walked across the street towards the barbershop that was just opening up. The door dinged when he stepped inside and he saw a man with sandy blonde hair smoking a cigarette with a few other guys. Burt figured the one in the middle was Sam because he had usually large lips and he was wearing a tight undershirt with baggy pants, various gang tattoos waving up and his arm.

"We're closed," The man barked, his lip curling down distastefully.

"I'm not lookin' for a haircut." Burt said approaching him.

"Whatcha want old man?"

"Some information," Burt replied, standing tall.

"Why didn't you say so?" The blonde said, smiling he pulled Burt towards the back of the shop. "What kind of pussy do ya want huh? I've got Asian, Black, White, Spanish, you name it and I got it. I bet you're a real kinky motherfucker, ya want someone barely legal—"

"No," Burt said sternly. "I just want information on a Kurt."

Sam's eyes darkened. "What the fuck do you want to know about Kurt? Huh?"

"Look, I found him beaten half dead by the side of the road I don't know who he is I just want some information on him so that I can help him get back to his family."

"Kurt ain't got no family…" Sam sneered. "That dipshit of a father ran off when he was sixteen…He used to live in a trailer down near the creek with his boyfriend Blaine."

"What happened to Blaine?"

"Dumbass joined the army," Sam laughed. "Kurt begged him not to go, pleaded for days like a fucking bitch but Blaine was deadest on leavin', said he wanted to make somethin' of himself or some shit like that. It's stupid if ya ask me."

"So….Where does Kurt live now?"

Sam shrugged. "Which ever bed he chooses….Kurt's got what we call the _itch_…He needs to be fucked or else he loses his mind. He'll take it any way he can get it, last I heard he was seen with Sebastian, Blaine's best friend, probably fucked him too."

"The college superstar…?"

"Where ya been ol'man," Sam hackled. "Sebastian ain't been a star in years. He dropped out of college when he hurt his knee and couldn't play anymore."

"Do you know when Blaine will be back?"

"Who knows…last I heard he was deployed four weeks ago…Kurt hasn't been the same since…But whenever he gets that _itch_ he knows who to come to." Sam winked at him.

Burt felt his stomach coil. "I see….Well, thank you for that information….I need to get back to see if Kurt is alright." He turned to walk away but stopped when Sam forcefully gripped his arm.

"Not so fast," Sam grunted. "Blaine is like family and down here we take care of our family. If I heard that you touched or hurt Kurt in _any_ way I'll cut your dick right off and stuff it in your mouth."

Burt jerked his arm away. "Likewise," he spat storming out of the store.

**oOo**

On his way home Burt clutched the pie close to him careful not to jostle it. It was only after eleven and he already felt drained. The information he had learned about Kurt was beyond disturbing, he shuddering thinking about the state of mind that kid was in. Burt didn't believe in turning someone away when they were in desperate need.

Kurt was in _dire_ need.

The boy had no structure or discipline in his life; he roamed freely, and spread his legs for love and affection he was denied in his childhood. That made Burt feel a deep sadness in his heart and he knew that he had to do something, this kid was on the pathway to destruction and if God was his witness he wasn't going to let Kurt fall into despair.

With his resolve set Burt turned into his driveway, grabbed the pie and walked into the house. He was surprised to see that Kurt was still sleeping on the couch on his side, shirt ridding up to expose the hot-pink underwear he was wearing and Burt quickly got a blanket to cover him up. After Burt stepped outside, put some steaks and corn on the grill, cracked open a beer trying to decide what he should do next. In a last minute decision he nailed the window's shut, place a padlock on the front and back door, then sat at the kitchen table wringing his hands together and prayed to the lord for strength and wisdom. Kurt began to stir on the couch; he rolled onto his back and slowly blinked his eyes open. Burt stood from his seat, his combat boots stomping on the hardwood floor as he approached the kid.

"Take it easy," Burt said softly placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Ugh," Kurt groaned. "My head….."

"Wait a second I'll get you some water," Burt went to the kitchen and came back with a tall cool glass of water, which Kurt drank greedily.

"Slow down," Burt said smiling, then took the glass when Kurt handed it back empty.

"What happened?" The boy asked touching his face.

"I found you, at the side of the road…You were beaten up real bad….Your wounds weren't deep so I didn't take you to the hospital…I reckon you'll be fine in a few days."

"Oh…." Kurt said. "Well, I best be on my way…Things to do ya, know….Thank you for everythin' but as you can see I'm fine."

"Are you fine?"

Kurt looked puzzled, then agitated. "Yes, I just told you I was—"

"No…I don't think you are fine…I think you are the exact opposite of fine."

"What the hell do you know old man?" Kurt snapped. "You don't know shit that's what."

"I know you've been running 'round town, spreading your legs for anyone with a nickel or a dime."

"Fuck you," Kurt said. "I'm leaving I didn't ask you to take care of me! I would have been fine at the side of the road." He moved to stand, then wobbled on his feet before falling right back on the couch.

"I told ya to take it easy." Burt answered calmly. "Look, I know you must think I'm crazy or somethin' but I just spent the entire mornin' askin' people around town about ya and guess what? Either they don't know or they don't care. You got nobody here that's looking out for you. Now, I'm not sayin' I'm prefect, lord knows I'm not…..I just have a proposition for you…."

Kurt sighed deeply. "Fine…I'll suck you off if you let me leave."

"Not that kind of proposition," Burt growled. "I want you to live here."

Kurt laughed. "With you…? As you're what? House slave? Or your little fucktoy? No thank you."

Burt's face hardened. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this…" He stood and walked towards the front door which had a sliding steal lock on it. Right now he knew he was doing the right thing, Kurt wasn't safe out there on his own and since nobody gave a damn about him, Burt took it upon himself to start caring. With his hand on the lock he didn't know how this kid would react but if he could save Kurt's life then it would all be worth it in the end.

"I'm sorry Kurt, but I can't let you leave."

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**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the preface:) It will get darker after this so I hope all of you continue reading. I've always wanted to do a southern Klaine fic:) **

**This chapter is unbeta'd so all the mistakes are my own. **

**What do you guys think? should I continue? **

**Send me some love.**


	2. New

**Warning: This story contains violence, coarse language, sexually suggestive themes, sexuality, abuse, rape, homosexuality, drug use, homophobia, death, graphic violence and is for a mature audience. Please do not read unless over eighteen.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee.**

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_Dante's Inferno_

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Throwing his head back, Kurt gripped the wide shoulder blades as if his life depended on it. With the heat sweltering, he could barely breathe in the _suffocating_ air of the dingy trailer they lived in. Old jazz music from a recorded was playing in the background and he rolled his hips getting lost in the sensations, his entire body feeling weightless as he chased the pleasure with each smooth jerk of his hips. It was like floating, a drift at sea, languidly on his back while the waves brushed under him, the deep pale blue waters cascading around him leisurely. A large hand gripped his lower thigh, blunt nails dug into his skin and Kurt allowed himself to be _taken_ by the beautiful man beneath him.

On this lazily afternoon the sun was beating heavily down on Dante's Inferno, Kurt groaned and nearly screamed when his lover clamped a solid hold on his hips as he jackhammers his cock deep inside, striking with great precision the bundle of nerves.

"Fuck, _yes_,"

A jolt of electricity spikes through his core, lament cries fill the distilled humid summer air and Kurt can feel his cock swell with growing—_everlasting_ need for release. There is a fire coiling in his stomach, mounting with each and every wild thrust and he can barely hold on any longer, climax is building and his balls are tightening. Forcing himself to stay grounded he can't help but mentally chant: _Blaine, Blaine, Blaine_.

The love of his life.

His best and at some times only _real_ friend in this shitty town that had ridiculed him to the point of suicide and his own Step-father who had taken his innocent callously, by sliding a cruel hand over his mouth while stealing his virginity. Blaine is the only person who doesn't believe the horrid things people say about him—even though at times they are actually true—and defends him when everyone calls him a worthless _whore_.

They've built dreams together and a life of hopes to somehow make it in this world that would rather see them suffer than succeed. The sense of affection and devotion Kurt only feels when he's in Blaine's tight embrace, making love on this ratty couch with the smell of sex and sweat saturating the air. It is in these moments where Kurt feels the most _alive_, his insides shrinking with desire and lust only for his lover.

Blaine groans gently—_always gently_—as if Kurt were a breakable object he caresses his cheek as they fall into a steady rhythm, bodies thriving up and down, lips fused together as their passion escalates and salt water drips from his pours.

They are two bodies, one mind; each becoming whole.

Kurt feels his heart might burst, but before that he's hurtling towards the climax which is suspended momentarily making it so much more _sweeter_ to attain. Blaine snaps his hips forward, in a way he knows will send him tumbling over the edge. Crying out as white hot flashing lights dance before his eyes, his body trembles, fingers reach out desperately trying to cling to Blaine who's slippery with sweat.

Of course Blaine won't let him fall.

His iron grip welds Kurt to his chest, where he undoubtedly belongs. Not long after Blaine's movements become erratic, jerky and he explodes inside of Kurt. For a moment they both still, each breathing harshly and Kurt laps at the soft skin just under Blaine's ear.

"_I love you_." He breathes as if it were a secret.

Blaine chuckles the deep vibrations of his voice trickling his skin. "You always say that after we make love."

"It's true, if I had realized it earlier then—"

"Then nothing." Blaine cuts in. "Just because I've known since I was twelve it doesn't really make a difference when you've known, because, now you are in my arms. Now you are mine."

Kurt blushes and looks down. "I've always been yours...even when I was six...I think deep down I've always known." His fingers trace an _ugly_ faded scar on Blaine's collar bone and he hates Tony even more for defiling Blaine's body. It stands out in contrast to Blaine's otherwise flawless skin and it makes him see red all over again, darkly he wishes that he had killed Tony just he planned all those years ago and then maybe he would have saved both of them a lot of the turmoil they had to endure because of that slimy bastard.

"Let's go to bed," Blaine says sensing his mood. He picks Kurt up and tosses him on the old queen size bed that had seen better days, disposes the condom and then with a cloth wipes Kurt down. Once he's finish they fall asleep completely nude wrapped up in each other's bodies, legs intertwined and Kurt his flush against his neck. Since they don't have air conditioning the sheets cling to his wet skin and he finds calmness in the cadence of Blaine's breathing.

It's just after sunset when Kurt wakes up and finds the bed empty. He stretches his tired muscles, throws on a baggy oversized black t-shirt and walks into the living, where he finds Blaine with his reading glasses on going over some mail. "Any good news….?" Kurt asks hopefully sitting across from his lover. In return Blaine shakes his head, pushing a letter towards him.

Kurt snatches it off the table, his face going pale. "An Eviction Notice,"

"That's the second one Dave's sent..." Blaine says running a hand through his unruly hair.

"It's okay….I'll just pick up an extra shift at the supermarket and maybe start working for Sam again—"

"_No_."

"But—"

"I said no." Blaine snapped. "And if I ever catch you working for Sam again I'll kill him." Blaine's vowed, his hands shaking.

Kurt reaches over and touches his hands. "It's okay, baby, I won't...calm down okay?"

Blaine inhaled deeply, before he nodded and intertwine their fingers. "They're starting to cut jobs at the Factory...everything is run by machines now anyway...I don't know how much time I have left there."

"We'll figure something out...maybe Sebastian's dad could get you a job at their car company...?"

"No..." Blaine looked down dejectedly. "I already spoke to him...he said that I was good with numbers but I can't be around loud noises and even with my medication the panic attacks still come... I could barely make it through the front door without freaking out."

Kurt pulls Blaine's hand to his lips. "I can try to get you at job at the supermarket?"

Blaine's face hardened. "No, we both know that your greasy boss is just _itching_ to get you alone...no, I won't have it."

Kurt sighed trying to figure something else out.

"There is one thing..." Blaine said pushing another piece of paper toward him.

Kurt's eyes flickered down before the shot right back up, his resolve set. "_No_."

"You didn't even read the damn thing." Blaine hissed.

"I don't need to." Kurt said ripping his hand away from Blaine's. "I can't believe you are even suggesting it!"

"It's not as bad as you think. We'd have enough money to get the hell out of this dump and the benefits, you'd always be taken care of if anything should happen to me—"

"I'm pretty sure those arrangement only work for straight people." Kurt scoffed. "Why are we discussing this? They'll check your medical records Blaine and know that you can't even fire a gun—"

"That's why you should have read the damn paper." Blaine spat. "This isn't for military training it's just for behind the scenes stuff like technology. I'm good with that."

"Blaine no—those people are put in the worst situations. What happens when you have an attack on the battle field—"

"It isn't supposed to be like this. I promised that I would take care of you and we can barely afford this piece of shit trailer!" Blaine snapped, slamming his fist against the table.

"Baby, relax, okay we'll figure something out—"

"If I leave tomorrow I can still enlist."

"Blaine I said no." Kurt barked, grinding his teeth together.

"It'll only be for a few months then once training is done—"

"You'll be deployed!" Kurt yelled. "Halfway across the fucking world fighting some stupid war! I can't take it Blaine, knowing you'll be out there all alone and—_oh god_—if something ever happened to you I'd die. It'll _kill_ me!"

Blaine was out of his seat in a second, arms winding around Kurt as he sobbed. "Shhh, clam down…we'll figure some out."

"I don't care you aren't going and that's finale." Kurt said stubbornly.

Blaine sighed kissing his forehead. "Shh, just relax, okay."

Kurt sniffed wiping away his tears. "Sorry, just the thought of losing you...makes me crazy. You're all I have in this world."

"I know," Blaine said, smiling. "You're my everything too."

Kurt watched as Blaine began to fade, his face turning into a hard grimace before he disappeared. Frantically he is reaching out, trying to pull Blaine back to him only to have his lover fall further and further away from him. Screaming Kurt jerks awake and he realized that it was all just a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Sitting up on the couch Kurt rubbed his eyes groaning, a dull ache filling his chest. Dreaming about Blaine was always bitter sweet and he cursed when more tears started to cloud his eyes.

He hated Blaine for leaving him like this.

They had only been separated once and that was when Blaine's abusive dad tried to drag him to New York. When Blaine turned sixteen his dad moved there for good, probably to mooch off Blaine's older brother Cooper.

Kurt sighed wrapping his frail arms around his chest. "Fuck you, Blaine." He clenched his teeth as the tears broke free.

It had been four weeks and no word.

Not even a letter, just nothing.

Silence hurt more anything, like a punch to the gut. He had no idea if Blaine was okay, if he had taken his medication or who would help him though those awful panic attacks that left him hyperventilating cowering in a corner and closing in on himself. Those scenes were the absolute _worse_ where his lover was completely helpless. Snivelling Kurt wiped the residual tears away from his face, vowing not to think about it anymore, mostly because he'd drive himself crazy with worry.

"Hey kid, are you okay?" Burt asked standing in the kitchen with an ugly brightly colored robe wrapped around his body. "Must've been a bad dream." He said, pouring a glass of milk and passing it to him.

Snatching the glass out of Burt's hand he drowned it quickly.

"Look, buddy, while you're up I think there are some things we need to discuss." Burt said sitting at the edge of the coffee table right in front of the couch Kurt was sleeping on.

"Yeah, like how long you want to serve in prison once I get out of this hell hole." Kurt spat, pulling the blanket over his chest.

Burt rolled his eyes. "Look, I went over to your place….that trailer you own near Dante's creek, the landlord said that if ya'll don't come up with three hundred dollars by the end of the week he's going to sell it."

"Three hundred dollars—" He sputtered. "I can't afford that! I'd have to work twice as hard at the supermarket for _weeks_ in order to get that kind of money—"

"Relax kid, I took care of it."

"What?"

"I paid him the money."

"Why the fuck would you do somethin' like that?"

Burt shrugged. "You don't deserve to have your home taken away….plus I didn't do it for free."

"Of course not," Kurt scoffed.

"You can pay me back by workin' on the farm."

Kurt threw his head back and laughed. "Old man, do I look like I know anything about workin' on a farm? You'd have better luck with a cripple."

"All I'm askin' for is a few months. You'll get free room and board, all the homemade pies you can eat and once it's paid off you'll be on your way."

"What's in it for you?" Kurt demanded, raising an eyebrow. This had to be some sick game. There was just no way he'd pay off his home without wanting something in return.

"Well, I get some help on the farm. While you're livin' here all I ask is that you attend church once a week and that you refrain from bringing strangers into my house."

"That's it? Sounds like torture." Kurt snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, yet deep down it didn't seem like a bad idea. If he was being completely honest with himself a breather away from his chaotic life would actually be a welcomed distraction to take his mind off of Blaine.

Burt chuckled. "You just wait, kid, I'll have you plowing those fields in no time."

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**A/N:This chapter is unbeta'd so all the mistakes are my own. **

**For those of you that have guessed, yes this is sort of like Black Snake Moan but it's doesn't follow the same timeline and the characters will be VERY different. A lot of the character development with focus on Kurt and his healing process of forgiveness and acceptance. **

**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter:) **

**Send me some love. **


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